


Me, Myself and I

by AngelCakesxx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelCakesxx/pseuds/AngelCakesxx
Summary: Hermione Granger was a good girl. A clever girl. Destined to be the brightest witch of her age. So why was she breaking into Dumbledore's office in the dead of the night whilst the castle slept around her.





	1. There’s Important Business to be Discussed

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been out of the world of fan fiction writing for many years now, and this is my grand return! I lost interest due to some negative comments about my previous stories and lost the confidence in sharing my creative ideas because some of my HP storylines were called 'dumb' or 'stupid' and my personal favourite, 'this would never happen!' by more then a few.
> 
> I have much tougher skin now and have rediscovered my love of writing. I love to draw inspiration from many different authors and the characters and worlds to create my stories, which is what has happened here. So if this notion offends anybody you're welcome to stop reading now, but for those who end up staying and enjoying this story I look forward to you're thoughts.
> 
> Much love x

Somewhere in London, 1857. 

The ordinary stench of the East End streets wasn’t too bad that evening. The recent two-day downpour was most likely responsible for that. The silence of the night was broken only by the occasional harsh cough of a street beggar, the yelling and laughing when a tavern door was thrown suddenly open, or by the muffled conversations of passing couples. Mist hovered over the slick cobbled pavement reflecting the moonlight of the quiet night. No street flames were visible, the East End wasn’t privileged enough to have such luxuries. 

Quiet and dark was nice, Sidney mused as he skipped from shadow to shadow along the wet black walls. The collar of his overcoat was turn up high against his neck, his brown hair brushing the edge of it. It still didn’t stop the chilly air from cutting him like the sharp point of a knife though. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, hunched his shoulders higher and tipping his capped head downwards. 

He turned off the main street into a narrow alleyway ignoring the tiny scrabbling and scratching noises against the pavement along the walls. The rats never bothered him so he never bothered them. Besides, their running would help to muffle his footsteps. 

Not that he wasn’t silent or slinky he smirked to himself rather smugly; he was beginning to gain the reputation of a jaguar somewhat, he thought so at least. Pouncing on his prey from the silence of the night, one little swipe of his knife and he’d won against a boar or rabbit. Neither was good at evading him when he had a job to do. Once or twice he had even managed to successfully sneak up on his best friend. Tonight however was not one of those nights.

A shadow stirred a few feet ahead of him. But the movement didn’t alarm him he would know that shadow anywhere. Without a word James fell into step with him. The two boys continued down the alleyway and Sidney followed James through an old wooden door that appeared around the familiar bend. As quickly as it had opened, spilling warm yellow light into the navy blackness, it shut firmly behind them. 

Sidney’s eyes adjusted to the swift change in light, finally taking in his older sister’s appearance as she stood in front of them. Her dark green bodice was pulled tight and neat against her body with her old grey fraying shawl hung loose against her small frame, and her soft brown-red curls were pulled up onto the top of her head. She grinned at the two boys, her freckled nose and cheeks looking rosy and her dark muddy brown eyes that matched Sidney’s shone in the light of the candle she held. 

“This way,” she muttered, turning and beckoning the boys to follow her. Even her voice was a lovely timbre. Sidney sometimes wished his older sister had been born ugly; her life would have been much more simple if she was ugly. He also noticed that her dress’ green skirt hardly touched her ankles anymore. 

Her worn brown boots matched both Sidney and James’. Sidney remembered the day their suggogate father had brought home multiple pairs of boots for all his children, muttered about the extreme inconvenience of growing children’s feet. But they had all cheered, laughed and covered him in thankful kisses. Sidney nearly shuddered at the mere memory, the thought of kissing said man now would be like kissing one of those scurrying rats outside.

His sister led the boys up the staircase that creaked under their boots on each step. The house was dark save for the small candle guiding their way as they climbed in silence, finally reaching the first landing and entering into the small room that was adjacent to the staircase. 

It was much better lit, with candles lining the walls and a fire roaring hot and bright, flickering shadows around the walls and lighting the occupants within. A bed rest against the far corner opposite the door and a cooking bench was next to the fireplace with a small cauldron near. James grinned at Noah and Jim who sat opposite each other at the small table as they drank deeply from their cups of liquor and fell silent when the three youngsters strode in. 

“Lizzie, see the lads have a drink too. We have things to discuss,” Jim’s voice boomed across the small room. Without saying a word Lizzie placed the candle in the middle of the two men and went to prepare drinks for the two boys as Sidney and James joined their companions at the table. 

“How goes the night?” Noah grinned widely at his two young pupils. He looked the same as ever. The end of his long crow nose was red, his frail looking skin pulled taunt across his high cheekbones and his fluffy white hair was stuck at odd angles, like he’d been shocked by lightening Sidney always thought. James shrugged off his worn brown overcoat and took off his top hat revealing his almost-black hair underneath. Sidney crossed his feet under the table and leveled their suggogate father with a smirk.

Lizzie joined them at the table after placing a mug of gin and hot water in front of each boy. 

“S’alright,” Sidney said in answer to Noah’s question. 

“Quiet,” finished James. 

“No matter,” Noah said, more for Jim’s sake who bristled at the thought of the younger men not working hard enough when they could of, “It’s a cold night, not much business to be had tonight, except maybe for playing.”

“We aren’t got the time for playing old man,” Jim growled, his teeth brawling forward like an angry dog, “Any word from the girl?”

“She’ll be here in two days,” Noah said gently fixing the burly man with his clear and steady gaze. His beady green eyes were just as sharp and clear as they had been when he was a young man, “There is no need to be so impatience Jim.”

“She’ll come through,” James added faithfully, “She always does.”

“She better,” Jim snarled angrily, “otherwise she’ll have my fist-”

“Hush Jim!” Lizzie injected from the end of the table just as Sidney’s grip on his mug tightened. He’d never admit it to a soul but Jim Clarkson frightened him very much. He hated the man with a burning secret passion, and what was worse his sister was determined to share his bed. 

“She’s good and clever and she’s ours” Lizzie finished in a tone of finality. 

The slow conversation was suddenly interrupted by a short knock at the door.

“That’ll be Tom,” Jim muttered to his lover as she rose to let his business partner in. That is when Sidney noticed something on his sister’s wrist, an ugly yellowing mark that marred her pearly white skin. It looked like something or someone had clamped down around her wrist and held on with a death grip.

Sidney glanced at Jim again feeling the hatred swimming inside him, but instead of saying a word he took a deep drink from his gin and hot water. He glanced across the table and wondered if James had noticed the bruise too. His friend was very receptive when it came to Lizzie. They knew Jim never beat her around her face, only in places he knew she could hide. Bastard, Sidney snarled to himself as he drank again. 

“Hello, hello, hello!” cried Tom as he joyfully clambered into the room, big laughing smile and flaming red hair that stuck out in a mess of frizzy curls under his top hat. He slapped Sidney on the back, ruffled James’ hair, and sat down next to Jim with such ease; it was as if he owned the place. 

Sidney felt somebody slip into the seat next to him. He knew whom it was without needing to look across, he could smell her perfume. Alice’s golden ringlets shone in the candlelight, her breasts were pushed high against her chest, her burgundy dress was pulled taut and her pretty face was clean and lively with attention. 

As Lizzie returned too and Noah grinned around the table, “Well isn’t this a lovely little gathering.” 

Jim snorted in somewhat disgust as Sidney and James grinned at each other, Alice rolled her eyes but with a slight smile on her red painted lips, and Lizzie retrieved more glasses with liquor for the newcomers. 

“Here Here!” Tom agreed happily and pulled out his pipe from the inside of his lavish coat, “Elizabeth love, just bring the bottle will ya? We’ve not all had a nice chat up in a long while! Let’s drink and be merry! Who has a light?”

“There’s important business to be discussed,” Jim replied giving his oldest friend a hard look from the corner of his eye. 

Tom, however, wasn’t in any way bothered by Jim’s hard tone nor was he in the mood for serious talk; he simply waved the bottle of gin in the air like he was flourishing the flag for King and country, “Aye! But who said you can’t drink and talk together?! Surely you can handle both Clarkson?”

Sidney smirked at Tom’s hidden dig, James held out his empty mug to Tom ignoring Noah’s reproaching look, Alice softly brushed her fingers against Sidney’s thigh under the table and Lizzie sighed softly, watching the scene unfold, keeping silent about the second bottle of gin safely tucked away in the top cabinet above the fireplace. So without another word Jim Clarkson allowed Tom Fletcher to refill his cup and their little party was underway. 

000

Hogwarts Castle, 1995. 

Hermione Granger readjusted her worn book bag over her shoulder with a heavy sigh as she struggled to keep hold of the three heavy volumes currently in her arms. Maybe borrowing eleven books wasn’t such a clever idea she now thought as she made her way passed the doors to the Great Hall, although at the time she couldn’t part with a single title. Each had a specific chapter dedicated to the use of rosewood in sleeping potions. She needed to better understand the pros and cons of adding the root to the potion, was it an essential ingredient or not? Personally, she did think the root made the results of the induced sleep more effective, it sent the drinker into a deeper slumber then what their conscious allowed. Although some had been know to slip into death from such results.

This essay was worth 40% of her overall mark for her fifth year in Potions, along with the presentation that was to be given in front of her fellow Gryffindors, the Slytherins, and the ill-tempered Potions Master at the beginning of the new term. Not something she was particularly looking forward to, if she was honest. But this was her all-important OWLs, she was determined to stay focused, no matter what. 

The first term wasn’t even over yet and Hermione Granger was already making notes for essays to be handed in once the new term started. Harry and Ron, as per usual, thought she was mad, but expected her madness nonetheless. And maybe she was mad, she thought as she readjusted her book bag again whilst yanking out a piece of hair caught under her strap.

“Well, well,” drawled a voice behind her, “If it isn’t the Mudblood with her ugly face and ugly hair. I was wondering what had stunk up the corridor.” 

Hermione whipped around to face her school nemesis and his gang of brainless goons. His Perfect badge shone brightly in the winter light sitting proudly obnoxious upon his robes. Draco Malfoy’s pale pointed face smirked at her, a nasty look burning in his eyes. Hermione simply rolled her eyes and glared. Goodness knows what Dumbledore was thinking in giving him the privilege of Perfect. 

“Shove off ferret,” Ron snapped as he and Harry strode past the group of Slytherins from the Great Hall and dinner. Harry accompanied Ron’s comment by throwing a dark look in Malfoy’s direction just for good measure as the boys followed Hermione down the corridor away from the Great Hall. With the joyful Christmas season fast upon them the Great Hall was a shining beacon of golden light, a falling white snow ceiling, giant red, gold and white sparkling Christmas trees, the mouthwatering scent of rich fruit cake and hanging mistletoe that made girls blush and boys jostle and laugh. 

Hermione loved Christmas at Hogwarts; it was definitely her favourite season, she always felt so happy. She quickly brushed aside her encounter with Malfoy as the Golden Trio, as they had been dubbed recently, entered the Gryffindor common room. They found a table by the fireplace for the evening, Hermione began to unload her library books as Harry open his bag with a sigh, his black hair flopping in front of his eyes. Hermione hide a smile, she knew Professor McGonagall had given him his Transfiguration essay back to be rewritten with her edited notes, she was sure she would be lending a hand to him at some point this evening. Ron simply ignored his school duties and pulled out a small gadget belonging to his twin brothers’ shop. 

Hermione opened her first library book on the chapter of rosewood but she didn’t start reading just yet, she had a more pressing matter to attend to. 

“Harry?” she began softly. 

“Hm?” Harry didn’t look up from his essay; his brow was already drawn in confusion over the first of McGonagall’s notes.

“Is it alright if I borrow the invisibility cloak tonight?” 

Ron stopped playing with his toy and Harry looked up from his paper, quill held still in his hand, “Why?” he asked in concern and curiosity, “is everything okay?” 

Hermione gestured to the chapter in front of her, “Rosewood.” 

Ron and Harry shared a look before Ron frowned and said, “That’s a pretty serious magical weed killer. What do you want with it?”

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked again, taking the better approach then Ron. 

“Yes, of course,” Hermione smiled smoothly, “The purest form I’ll be able to find grows in the forbidden forest, and obviously I can’t be seen going in there, so I was hoping I could borrow the cloak. Just this once Harry and I’ll give it straight back! I promise.” 

“You know that's dangerous right?” said Ron staring at Hermione like she's finally flipped and gone mad, “Going into that forest just for some homework! Why not just get Hagrid to get you some?” 

“Because it needs to be me Ronald,” Hermione sighed in exasperation, “If Hagrid crushes the flowers in a particular way, or he doesn’t pick enough of the root, or picks the flowers without the whole of the roots attached, my experiments will be a waste of time! I’m going to use it to make a sleeping potion first with the rosewood and then without, seeing the effects the root makes on the colour of the potion, any physical effects it has on the body, psychological effects, taste and texture of the potion. I’ve seen the flowers in the forest before, I know exactly where they are and they are that so far in either! If it makes you feel better I’ll keep the cloak on the whole time.” 

“And who exactly are you planning on using these potions on Hermione?” asked Ron incredulously, “you know you could murder someone if it goes wrong?! My Mum uses Rosewood for our garden!” 

“Only if the brewing time is done wrong!” Hermione argued back, beginning to feel her patience fraying a little. So instead she tried another tactic, turning her pleading face to Harry, “Please Harry, this essay and presentation is 40% of our OWL grade for Potions! I really need the rosewood.“ 

“Yeah alright then,” A frown was still on Harry's face, but he hesitantly added, “Just be careful okay?”

Hermione grinned back at him and let out a genuine sigh of relief, “Thank you Harry! Really!”

Ron finally let out a breathy laugh, “Look at you Hermione! Breaking the rules and everything! I must say, I’m a little proud.” 

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and turned back down to the words on the page in front of her. Harry returned to his essay too, shielding the grin that was peaking onto his face.

And now, Hermione thought, her stomach in nervous knots, the hard work really begins…


	2. Nightly Errands make for Heartily Palpitations

Hermione’s breath was harsh in her ears as she stepped lightly under Harry’s invisibility cloak, her wand safely tucked into the back pocket of her jeans and just as long as Mrs. Norris stayed away, her plan should go smoothly. 

Perhaps she should have asked Harry for the Marauders Map she thought as she peeked around the corridor leading up to Dumbledore’s office. She could see the grand eagle from where she stood, its wings curved beautifully and outspread, perched proudly above the lavish staircase that led up to the door of the Headmaster’s office. The brilliant gold was now paled in the moonlight’s hue. It was too late to turn back now Hermione thought. 

As she made her way towards the staircase a sudden high-pitched howl startled her. She quickly glanced up at the tall windows that overlooked into the green of the Hogwarts grounds below and she could see the moon was full and bright tonight. She scolded herself, trying to calm her jitteriness, and strode forward confidently, stopping in front of the archway.

After taking a final glance around her, making sure she was alone, Hermione pulled off the cloak and slipped her wand out of her pocket. She hoped dearly she could live up to her title of being the smartest witch of her age, otherwise losing her status as a Perfect would be the least of her worries. 

She stilled herself, raised her wand confidently and swished it in the way she’d seen Madam Pomfrey execute a few weeks earlier and spoke clear, staring directly into the eagle’s metallic eyes, “Lemon drop!” 

Nothing happened at first. Then the silence broke, the rocky creak was music to Hermione’s ears as the eagle began to turn and the staircase began to climb. She glanced one final time over her shoulder before hopping onto a step as their staircase ascended towards the Headmaster’s office. 

Not entirely sure what she would find when she reached the door she slipped her wand back into the pocket of her jeans and pulled the invisibility cloak over herself just as a precaution.

When she had reached the first landing the staircase slowed to a halt, the door in front of her was ruby red with ‘Headmaster’ scribbled in elaborate golden script across the front. Grasping the golden knob Hermione turned it slowly, edging the door open just wide enough for her to slip inside and quickly closed it behind her. 

She’d been in Dumbledore’s office on previous occasions. All manner of titled books, in various languages, lined the curved walls whilst amongst the shelves previous headmasters of Hogwarts slumbered in their hung frames, a few of them even snoring peacefully. The books scratched at Hermione’s fancy, what she wouldn’t give to be allowed a few hours in the headmaster’s personal library! She had no choice though; she had to silence that particular itch in favour of her errand. Trinkets and gadgets that Hermione had only seen in illustrations were scattered and placed neatly around the office and walls. The only change from the last time she stood in this room was the office was now quiet and dark, save for the slight silver hue from the full moon that was peaking in from one of the high windows. 

Stealthy Hermione made her way up the stairs towards the headmaster’s desk, glad to see Dumbeldore’s Phoenix wasn’t present on his perch, she was sure she wouldn’t get away with this if the creature was present. She slipped past the desk and moved to the mirrored cabinets that lined the far end of the office, silently opening one of them just as she had seen Dumbledore do. 

She scanned the contents and it didn’t take long for her to find her prize, it looked identical to the drawing she had been shown. A silver pocket-watch with a small red jewel locked tightly in the center of its outside surface; it twinkled at her from the shelf second to the bottom. Hermione slipped a hand from inside the cloak and lightly picked up the trinket. 

It felt cool and light in her hand. She tried to open it but it was sealed shut. Turning it over in her hand she saw on the back there was a tiny keyhole against the watch’s clasp. She frowned and scanning the contents of the shelf again, but didn’t see a key. Nobody had said anything about a key.

“Ah!” 

Hermione jumped from her skin as she spun on her heel clutching the trinket closely to her chest looking back at the office, her eyes scanning the space wildly but found nothing. 

“Alfred?” came another voice, exasperated and gruff from sleep, “What in the blazes are you yelling about at this hour?” This was accompanied by additional voices, all grumbling and a few annoyed murmurs and tuts. 

Heart still hammering against her chest Hermione let out a sigh of relief. It was only the bleeding paintings! 

“I was dreaming, and then there was a sound, it woke me.” 

“There’s always a sound with you! Like you said, you were dreaming. Go back to sleep before you wake the whole castle!”

Hermione could still hear grumbled and muttering about jumpy old wizards as she remained rooted to her spot. As the voices slowly quieted and returned to silence she slipped the pocket watch into her second back pocket and softly closed the mirrored cabinet door. 

She made her way silently back around Dumbledore’s desk, down the smooth stone steps and towards the door just as it suddenly flung wide open, a lit wand nearly blinding her as she jumped out of the way, clutching the cloak frantically. 

Severus Snape entered looking around the Headmaster’s office, frowning deeply with narrowed eyes. 

Hermione dared not move or even breathe; she could feel her heart racing. If she was caught now-! 

But just as suddenly he had paused the potions master strode purposefully towards the headmaster’s desk, his robes bowing behind him rather impressively. Hermione watched curiously as he rounded the desk, ruffling through paperwork quickly, obviously searching for something, before pulling a vial of gleaming yellow potion from one of the draws. Hermione couldn’t recognize the liquid from such a distance away. 

“You see!” came Alfred’s cry again as the other wizards grumbled about lights at ungodly hours, “I told you I heard something! Young man, can’t you see we’re trying to sleep?!” 

Snape only spared a reproachful look at Alfred’s painting but said nothing to the old headmaster as he rounded the desk, quickly making his way back towards the door just as Hermione sprung into action. She darted out the doorway and scurried silently down the stone staircase reaching the bottom just as the stairs began to move back downwards. 

Hermione flattened herself against the wall of the corridor, her heart beating painfully loud in her ears as she tried to keep her breath silent just as Snape appeared at the bottom, and without pausing, strode forward and down the corridor away from her and Dumbledore’s office. 

It was only once Snape’s robes disappeared from sight around the end of the corridor did Hermione release her breath, almost laughing as the adrenaline slowly dissipated from her body. 

As she walked she could still feel the silver pocket watch tucked securely in her jean’s pocket. She finally allowed the feeling of triumphant success to wash over her. After months of researching and searching the castle she’d finally succeeded in attaining the trinket! 

However, her utopia of success was short-lived. It was only once Hermione was tucked safely in her old four-poster bed and sleep had nearly overcome her did she suddenly sit upright in horror. She suddenly realized what had made Snape pause in suspicion when he’d entered Dumbledore’s office. He had expected to find an intruder or Dumbledore, at least, because the golden eagle was not at its rightful position waiting at the bottom of the stairs. And Alfred had certainly confirmed it to Snape when he had called out the second time!

Her idiocy amazing her whilst her rational instantly fought back saying Snape would have no proof she was in anyway involved, but needless to say, Hermione Granger got very little sleep that night. 

000

Harry slipped into the seat next to Ron and opposite Hermione the following morning at breakfast. He didn’t sleep very well the previous night. He’d awoken to the sound of high-pitched howls coming from outside the dormitory window, his brow feeling clammy. It had been about 2am when he’d last checked his watch and after that he’d had a restless sleep of disorientated dreams. Mostly colours and flashes of faces; his parents, Dumbledore, Snape, Sirius, his classmates, and then places; Hogwarts grounds, Private Drive, a dark and abandoned home near a softly lit church, a small candle-lit room with a roaring fireplace with an old rotting wooden floor. What was even worse was the burning in his scar this morning. He didn’t want to mention anything especially with Hermione present she was bound to fuss. So he reached for a piece of warm toast instead. 

Hermione glanced at him over the top of the Daily Prophet, looking just as tired as Harry felt, there were dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale. Harry suspected that has something to do with her nightly adventures involving rosewood. 

“You look tired,” she greeted him, rather ironically Harry thought. 

He simply shrugged, pouring some pumpkin juice, and instead asked, “Everything go alright last night?” 

Hermione simply nodded across the tablet at him, a secret twinkle in her brown eyes, and Harry took that as a yes. 

“Last day of classes today!” Ron announced happily, “You sure you don’t want to come stay for the holidays Hermione? Mum says you’re more then welcome and she makes the best Christmas dinners!”

“It’s okay Ron,” Hermione took a sip from her orange juice, “Tell her thank you but my parents want to visit Egypt again this Christmas, they went before I was born and said it was amazing and that I’d love it too. All that ancient history of the Egyptian Gods and the customs of the people are rather fascinating, don’t you think? And the pyramids would be interesting to see! I suppose one of the disadvantages of not going to a Muggle school means we miss out on their history, from their perspective at least.” 

“Bill showed us some flesh eating beetles when we went to Egypt,” Ron said through a mouth full of maple syrup pancakes, “they were used to torture people, eat them from the inside out!” 

Harry grinned whilst Hermione made a chocking noise as she swallowed her orange juice before her reply came, dripping with sarcasm, “Charming.”


End file.
